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BEAST à la MODE

by Big Sir and The Greater Good

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1.
It Is I 03:25
It is I, B I G S I R from where I be, to where you are. It is I, yr main man, Verbal Duvet. So make way while I'm making my way. It is Mother Nature, the Tyrannous Baron of variance, baring his soul with barely any control and nary a hole in his whole appearance. Locked and loaded, devoting his goals to going toe to toe as thorough as Dr. Scholl's. I was conceived to breathe this perception, mic cords vibrating from a higher direction. Since my inception I've been blessed with a mighty inflection, ascension ain't a question. Conventional rules do not apply, using the tools provided to uncover your third eye. The guy with the liveliest pyrotechnics to make your neck twist, ubiquitous set lists. Slick and ballistic, big kid linguistics, this is not a question, I'm talking physics, here. Lesson learned, no textbooks. I know better than that, I'm from an upper class. Eeegads, got slabs of panache, the greatest chatter that has ever been had. That's not bad for a Bolivar boy, relax while I make my noise. It is I, B I G S I R from where I be, to where you are. It is I, yr main man, Verbal Duvet. So make way while I'm making my way. It is KP. How much better could it possibly be? How much greater can it possibly get? You met your destiny when you met me. Bless-ed, it's easy to see, the good outweighs the bad without set precedent. Without deficit, fully credited, inscrutable and stupifyingly incredible, indeed tremendous. Momentous occasion, momentum is gaining. Made from the same thing that defies explaining. One in the same, there's no use in naming, manning the ship with an infinite training. Saying the way that it is, nothing more, nothing less with a gesture that suggests you catch up with us. Illustrious cuts, enough of a sweep to collect all your dust. Adjust your britches. Begin to enrichen your existence with the pattern I'm stitching. This vision is glistening. Listen, it's simple, I'm giving inch after inch of dillegence. A niche market developing, remarks that I spit leaving marks on your skeleton. There's no telling with certainty where this is headed. I'm only certain that I'm pertinent, so there I said it. Purveying my vocabulary for the perfect method to ensure that the message is getting embedded. It's getting better all the time, downstream paddle. I got a team that can finish up the battle. This powerful palaver packs a wallop that'll leave you addled. Precision with the wisdom of a Grandad, ya'll.
2.
Bob & Weave 04:19
Now lace up, tape up, lace up, tape up Now bob and weave now bob and weave now bob and weave now bob and weave now ba- ba- ba- ba- ba- ba- ba- I'm simonized with the flawlessness. I got a lion sized jaw that'll maul all you pine box colonists. I'm getting reeeaaalll acquainted with the anachronistic rhetoric you project with feckless mechanistics. The Risky Mystic is tickling the plastic with a drastic science that's reliant on bionics or something. His gumption is undeniably scrumptious. Much better than any pungent, unctuous others' functions. Guess what, I gotta big sack of dynamite. There's no telling what it's gonna be like, I might bide my time for the sake of your pride but the prime design assigns my stride to break the ribbon at the finish line. It's a given that I'm living like Prometheus at any given time. I distinctly deliver the fire. They called me sire in my past life. If I'm a liar then try and prove it otherwise, I'm practically notarized. It's official. My pivotal spittle will whittle you down into the void. Big Sir, I'll burn you like the city of Troy. Now give a shit for your boy! Now give a shit for your boy! Big Sir, I'll burn you like the city of Troy. Now give a shit for your boy! Now give a shit for your boy! Lace up... Tape up... Lace up... Tape up... Now, BOB and WEAVE... Whoo! Another proud moment, when my pugnacious side becomes a vital component. Man, I'm on it. Bad Dog, setting his traps. My synapses are snapping rapidly back at this bomb track. On and on, making hay out of the inadequate pitter-patter chatter to emanate from the peanut gallery. Hourly aiming at John Salley salaries with rad ass mastery and the baddest self flattery. I charged my battery with sparks from the big bang. Since that happened my status remains unchanged: The most articulate, sophisticated resonating input to ever exist... and he's so specific with his gifts. I'm speaking strictly with implicit privileges, living brilliance, investment that gives big dividends. A bit of a legendary figure. Eagerly earning my keep at the utter most peak. My talent is my talons, I'm a falcon sizing up the beat. I'll snatch ya... Grab ya. Fly you up my tree and I'll feed you to my young seeds. Impeccable pedigree. Unequivocal to the Nth degree and it's as easy as it seems for me. It's been done so many times, I hardly know what it means... It's been done so many times, I hardly know what it means... It's been done so many times, I hardly know what it means..... Now give a shit for your boy! Now give a shit for your boy! Big Sir, I'll burn you like the city of Troy. Now give a shit for your boy! Now give a shit for your boy! Lace up... Tape up... Lace up... Tape up...
3.
Barnburner 04:59
Ya'll are paper plates, I'm China. The way I dictate, things get made finer. A one track mind, on the way to the stage I don't need a reminder. I just transcend time. Man, it's hard to fuck up with The Greater Good behind you. All these gaudy har-dee-hars could never get your party started. I'm the last man standing, Mark Wahlberg in The Departed. So get your arms the farthest they can stretch without causing harm to your cartilage. I speak harsh, but I promise, I gotta few things that I mean to accomplish. First target, your heart chakra. From there it ain't hard to body rock ya. Check your stocking, it's bonkers. Don't forget the moniker, G-R-E-A-T-E-R GOOD. I'ma take it from here. Big Sir, a one man world premiere. BARN BURNER, ample examples? Check the mantle. Animals swarm to my presence. Measurements never meant much in my lessons. The less you know, the better for ya. Them lesser thans couldn't even step in my foyer. Born to deploy noise, no choice but to bow down strictly for these boys. This goy knows no boundaries. I stomp these streets like I'm Richard Roundtree. Bounce. Trouncing like a baby tiger. My fiber is finer, no reminder required. No remainder, just Grade A Mother Nature flavor. The patient is dangerous. The patriarch for the future. Using acute maneuvers to suture your roots to the truth I unspool upon this transducer. There's only one word that suits it... GOOD I'ma take it from here. Big Sir, one man world premiere. Barn Burner, got ample examples. Check the mantle. BARN BURNER Hand to God, son. The architect of arson. Parcelling out my wit to live on in the print like Gary Larson. No regard, I just barged in here with a large grin, parked my rear end with aplomb and applause just started to happen. Smashing my kerosene lamp. I'm a brash one. Now watch my flames gain traction. Hear all the cattle becoming panicked by this semantic maniac with cranial capacity to single handedly create a rhapsody of seismic dimensions. My generations Rich Little, I make an indelible impression. Guess what I'm gushing about, umpteen gallons of gasoline gushing out my mouth. Now you're lugging more buckets of agua than Mickey Mouse. But The Greater Good is agoraphobic, WE AIN'T EVER GOING OUT.
4.
Now, I'ma keep saying what I'm saying til my temples are grey and all the temples blow away. I keep my veins pumping cinnamon, I'm in on it. The minute that my scripture hits ya, gets to peeling back your bonnet. The world's most effective colonic, feeling ninety pounds lighter while I'm providing the sonic stimulation. The impetus of intimidation. FEE FI FO FUM, I hope you got your torches lit. Look at me, I'm fortunate. Gorgeous borderlining on inappropriate. Top scientists can't even fathom the scope of it. Now I'm glowing with a noble luminescence. I know I'm not the only one that notices. Look at me, I'm fortunate. Queen Size bed, a fire pit and two porches. Look at me, I'm fortunate. Look at me, I'm fortunate. More talent than any human being ever before, it's recorded. You got it, Big Sir has been afforded Total Control, Total Control. Shut your trap and relax, man, the master is practicing Total Control. Ya'll are strolling down a slippery slope. Consider this a history lesson, cause every second spent listening to it is the closer you are to your descendants. Guess who's descending, here's a hint, it's never Mother Nature. The nomenclature with the stature and the correct math to make the earth flat, coming at ya. That was just a head's up, mac! The real thing would make your psyche snap like a cracked bat. That's that, there's no easy way to paint this. Your ways are tainted and mine immaculate. There's no passing this Merriam Webster ejaculate, shoot accurate. Good luck trying to put a cap on it. Look at me, I'm fortunate. Queen Size bed, a fire pit and two porches. Look at me, I'm fortunate. Look at me, I'm fortunate. More talent than any human being ever before, it's recorded. You got it, Big Sir has been afforded Total Control, Total Control. Shut your trap and relax, man, the master is practicing Total Control. B I G S I R from where I be to where you are B I G S I R from where I be to where you are B I G S I R from where I be to where you are B I G S I R

credits

released October 20, 2020

Big Sir- Vocals, additional percussion
White Shadow- Keys
Mr. Majestic- Bass
Dow Jones- Drums

Magenta Knightblade- female R&B vocals on "Bob & Weave"
The Greater Good Men's Choir - Gang Vocals

Written by Big Sir and The Greater Good
Recorded by Oscar Velasco and Big Sir Dec. 2012 - July 2014
MIxed by Big Sir and Oscar Velasco 2015
Produced by Big Sir

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Big Sir and The Greater Good Nashville, Tennessee

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